An Impromptu Concert
by 5thvofvnovember
Summary: Sherlock is considerate to John, for an evening.


Sherlock Holmes's slender fingers flew with delicate finesse over the strings of his violin as he played with increasing fervor. He looked out over the rooftop of London that glowed in the light of the sun as it sank below the horizon. And yet, the beauty of it was lost on him, so absorbed was he by the music being channeled through him. As far as the detective was concerned the rest of the world may as well not exist.

John Watson climbed out of the cab & uttered a weary sigh. He gazed up at the windows of 221b Baker Street & saw his flat mate & best friend gazing at some point in the far distance, clearly lost in his own world. The muffled sound of the music drifted down to him & he thought hopefully it would be an aid in bringing him peace from the harrowing day he'd had. As he shuffled up to the steps of their front door an attractive, dark-haired woman gave him a flirty smile. He normally would have made quick work of chatting her up, but he desperately wanted a cup of tea & an aspirin for his headache so he gave her a polite smile in return as he unlocked the door to his flat.

Sherlock was vaguely aware of the door being slammed behind him but he made no indication he'd heard it. However he was slowly dragged out of his reverie by various other loud noises in the direction of the kitchen. The tune of his playing suddenly turned morose & slightly discordant in his annoyance.

When John settled into his armchair finally with his cup of tea he felt a surge of contentment wash over him. It didn't last long though as Sherlock's violin playing became stranger & less melodic. As it degraded into no more than a cacophony of scratchy notes John slammed down the book he'd been attempting to read.

"Sherlock!" he shouted in hopes of getting the taller man's attention.

Sherlock immediately ceased playing & snapped his head in John's direction. He looked at him expectantly.

"Do you think you could possibly cut that out for five minutes?" John asked angrily.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

John looked at him incredulously. "Because, Sherlock, it's annoying," he retorted.

"I'm composing, John," Sherlock replied indignantly.

"Didn't sound like it to me," John scoffed.

"The process isn't always pleasant, it takes time."

John sighed. "Well, why can't you play like you were when I came home?" he asked in exasperation.

"You interrupted my thought process while you were banging around making tea," he said.

John groaned in frustration. "Well I'm being quiet now."

Sherlock shrugged & raised his bow. He turned back to the window & tried to resume composing. It was reasonably pleasant at first but quickly descended into chaos again. And so with a swish he lowered his bow again & huffed in annoyance.

"It's no use," he complained. "Your presence is distracting now. I can tell something is wrong & it's throwing off my playing," he sat down heavily in his chair.

John rolled his eyes. "I just had a bad day, that's all," he muttered.

Sherlock continued to stare at him though & when John looked up to himself under the taller man's scrutiny he sighed & set his book down again.

"What? You want me to tell you about it? Fine. They told me they're cutting my hours at the clinic & I might not be able to afford next month's rent. And you know why? Because of last week when we were out all night chasing some drug-addled criminal halfway across London," John said, raising his voice as he spoke.

"John, I-"

"And I don't want to hear a damn word about how this is somehow my fault & how I could have chosen not to go with you. So if I'm distracting it's because of you. And if it bothers you why don't you go play your violin outside or something so I can get a few moment's peace to figure out what I'm going to do," he added sarcastically.

Sherlock didn't answer & instead grabbed his case & placed his bow & violin back in it. Then he shrugged his dressing robe off & stood with the case in hand & grabbed his coat from the rack before striding out the door. John looked after him in disbelief but didn't have time to ask where he was going. Had he been in a better mood he might have followed but instead he shrugged & went to grab a beer from the fridge. After sitting back down & flipping on the telly to a rugby match he breathed a sigh of relief at finally being able to relax. He would figure out his finances after he'd cleared his mind a bit.

Sherlock padded down the steps, pulling on his coat over his usual t-shirt & pajamas as he did. As he walked out into the cool evening air he vaguely wished he had remembered shoes, but it was too late for that now. Once out on the sidewalk he set his case on the ground & carefully pulled his violin & bow out. He held it up & with a sort of tenderness checked to make sure it was still in tune. Satisfied that it was, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes & raised the bow once more.

The moment he began to play he was completely absorbed in the music, as he had been before John arrived, & the violin ceased to be merely an instrument, it became a part of him: his heart. He opened his eyes to the darkening sky & walked around, letting his body flow with the music as easily as it flowed through him & rang out into the open evening air. The notes that floated from the instrument were initially sweet, with a flowery quality, drifting through the air like the smell of fresh blossoms in spring, subtle yet somehow weighted. And it wasn't long before people were stopping & staring, & a crowd was even gathering around to watch & throw money (or occasionally phone numbers) into the empty violin case. A few even began taking videos on their phones. Soon the melody took a decidedly different turn. Where before it had been crisp & light, it was now heavy, smooth, & persistent, like a moonlight soaked ocean wave beating softly against the shore. A barely discernible little vibrato was thrown into the melody & he added an edge of grandeur to his song. Then his playing turned into a sort of medley, switching the feeling & style of his playing every couple of minutes, but the underlying motif still present. By this time the violin case was nearly full of wadded up, haphazardly tossed pound notes but Sherlock took no notice. After a few minutes he built up a proper crescendo & ended his song in crashing waves of sound that left the crowd stunned in the deafening silence that followed. When they regained their senses the crowd of onlookers, & even a few people on the other side of the street, burst into cheering & applause. Sherlock smiled with charming showmanship & took a sweeping bow. As he did it occurred to him in the back of his mind that he was still in his pajamas save for his coat. And despite the crowd imploring him to do an encore he turned on his heel, snapped the lid to the case shut, & with violin & case under each arm walked with his usual grace up to the door.

Upon re-entering the living room John hardly looked up at him. So Sherlock promptly strode over to the coffee table & dumped the contents of the violin case out onto it. John jumped at the sudden noise & shot a glare in Sherlock's direction, expecting that it was done purely to annoy him further.

"Sherlock I thought I sai-" he stepped mid-sentence & his eyes grew wide as he looked at the pile of money that was now spilling over the sides of the coffee table.

He stood & walked over to it, picking up a crumpled ten pound note & turning it over in his hands as Sherlock hung his coat up & went to fetch his dressing gown from where he'd dropped it earlier.

"Where did you get all this?" John asked quietly.

"Hm? Well, you asked me to compose elsewhere & so I did precisely that," Sherlock said absently, returning his violin to its case after fishing a stray phone number out of it.

"And where was that?"

"Just outside out door of course, as there was nowhere else," Sherlock replied, dropping down into his chair.

John shook his head incredulously. "There's got to be at least 100 pounds here Sherlock! And a few phone numbers?"

Sherlock smirked briefly. "Consider this month's rent paid then," he replied with a wave of his hand.

John froze & turned to look at the detective, who was now ignoring him & picking at the arm of his chair.

"Right," John said blankly, shifted from one foot to the other, his tongue passing nervously over his lips.

He walked over to where Sherlock's violin now sat in its case on the couch & brought it over & set it gently on Sherlock's lap. Sherlock looked up at him light confusion.

"Right, go on then," John urged. "Let's hear what you've written."

Sherlock hesitated then open the case & calmly stood with his violin in hand. John settled into his own chair & looked patiently up at him. Sherlock nodded & began to play the piece exactly as he had earlier, the notes still ringing fresh in his mind. As he played John leaned back & closed his eyes, a serene smile on his face. He reopened them when the music finally finished & noticed that Sherlock had an expectant expression. John smiled, a small laugh leaving him, & stood up. He took the violin from Sherlock's hands & set it & the bow gently down on the chair. After that he took a moment to appreciate Sherlock looking confused for once, & then placed a hand on the taller man's neck in order to pull him closer. The meeting of their lips was sweet but insistent at first. Then Sherlock curled slender fingers around John's hip & deepened the kiss to a passionate, heated exchange. Once they eventually broke apart they pressed their foreheads together, keeping themselves entwined.

"You're a bloody idiot," John spoke softly after a moment.

Sherlock smiled. "I know," he replied, to which they both breathed a small laugh & moved closer together.


End file.
